


Hard Decisions

by VaderzGirl



Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt, POV First Person, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaderzGirl/pseuds/VaderzGirl
Summary: The Traveler mulls over Damon's words. And reaches a decision on what to do next.
Relationships: Damon Reznor/Traveler
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Hard Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> After playing episode 3, my MC needed more options than the game gave her. I managed to keep her from kicking Damon in the nuts, but I couldn't keep her from doing her own thing. It's short, but not so sweet.
> 
> I did it in first person, since I wanted to follow the game's setup, with no MC name. Pretty generic, but if your MC was romancing Damon and had a problem with episode 3, you might understand. ;-)

**_Hard Decisions  
_**  
_Don’t you see… if we turn over the little princess to Zovack, it could be just enough to wipe his bounty on us from the record._  
  
Damon’s words echo in my mind, only to begin again as soon as they finish. No matter how hard I try, I can’t block them out. Worse, with each failed attempt, the words only seem to grow louder. Colder. How many times did I flirt with the man? How many times did I dream about being with him? In his arms. In his _bed_.  
  
Too many. Way too many.  
  
Every touch of his skin against mine, however brief and innocent, caused electricity to surge through my veins. Made my pulse quicken and my skin heat. Made me feel _alive_. Every time he smiled at me, he made me forget I was alone in a world where my past was beyond my reach. In those moments, I had almost believed things could be okay. That _I_ could be okay. Even now, when I remember that devilish smile, I _feel_ something.  
  
Of course, I also feel like a fool.  
  
It’s hard to believe the man who spoke those cruel words is the same man who strapped me into my seat only days—hours?—before. He’s the same man who convinced Calderon not to throw me off the ship and leave me on a planet where I would have, undoubtedly, become a slave. Or worse.  
  
Had that all been a lie? Had he actually talked Calderon into letting me stay aboard? Or was that just something he’d said to get me more amenable to taking my clothes off? I snort softly at the thought. It wasn’t like he had to try—from the first time I looked into those sapphire-blue eyes, I was ready to throw caution to the wind. And my clothes on his floor.  
  
Even before the waking nightmare my life has become, I knew that, for him, it had always been about sex. I never deluded myself into believing otherwise. From the first time I flashed him a flirtatious smile, I had known it wouldn’t last. And that was fine. Really. One night of passion was better than nothing, right? Especially when feeling his hands on me—feeling his body against mine while he was buried deep inside of me—would be something I could remember the rest of my life. No regrets. Live in the moment. I could’ve done that and let it go, even if I couldn’t deny those _other_ feelings stirring beneath the surface, feelings other than the unadulterated lust I don’t bother trying to hide.  
  
But that was then. This… this is now. Amazing how things can change in the blink of an eye.  
  
Now, well, now when I think of him, I can only hear his words. See the coldness in his eyes. It wasn’t hatred, no nothing so powerful as that. More like… apathy. Perhaps, that makes things worse. June’s hatred of my family pains me, especially since that hatred seems to be extended to me, but at least _he_ hadn’t been ready to turn me over to a murderer. Not like Damon. No, Damon just feels nothing for me. I’m a thing, a bargaining chip to buy his freedom from the bounty on his head.  
  
I listened to him tell me about Cursa. Hearing him describe the nightmare of his childhood made my heart ache for him. No child should ever have to suffer the misery he endured. Still, that doesn’t make up for what he said. What he had wanted to do. No, not _had_. Given half a chance, he’d still sell me out, and had all but admitted it. He would hand me over to Zovack without an inkling of sympathy for what I would be forced to endure at that monster’s hands. After seeing the coldness in his gaze—the complete and utter lack of compassion—I have no doubt he could _watch_ me be tortured and killed and not care a whit. Hell, he might even enjoy it. Why does that thought hurt so much?  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, I rub my temples. First Vexx, now Damon. I wish my memories had stayed gone, that I had never remembered how Vexx used me. I cared for him so much, and had believed he cared back. We were supposed to travel together. See the world. Have _fun_. But it had all been a lie. How stupid can one person be? Obviously, my taste in men is terrible. Vexx and Damon are two sides of the same coin. Two charming monsters, incapable of giving a damn about anyone.  
  
No, I can’t let myself believe that lie. They aren’t monsters. Damon cares about the crew. Vexx cared about killing my family and supporting Zovack. They’re capable of caring. Just not about _me_. Much like my family. What is wrong with me? Is there nothing about me worth saving?  
  
Aya and Bash stood up for me, at least. Even if they did behave differently around me. And Calderon denied Damon’s request. But…  
  
_Alright, alright, have it your way. But don’t go crucifying me for saying what you’re all thinking.  
_  
More words from the assassin. Vile and cold. Yet, logic dictates I consider it. That I face facts. I’m nothing to these people. A stowaway. The child of an evil, now dead, king. A bargaining chip for freedom. Damon hadn’t lied when he said they’d all been thinking the same as him. The fact was, they could all be free if they turned me over to Zovack. They would no longer be hunted. Can I really blame them for considering it? In their shoes, wouldn’t I do the same?  
  
As I ponder it, my brow creases, jaw tightening so much that it hurts. The answer comes quickly—no, I would never do that. The very thought of handing anyone over to a beast like Zovack to save my own skin makes me ill. So how can I stay here any longer? How can I sleep in a place where I will likely wake up with Damon’s blade to my throat? A part of me wishes I had just turned myself in to the guards and gotten them their freedom. At least it would be over.  
  
I reach for the music box my sister gave me. The only physical object I have tying me to my past. It’s beautiful, but it’s a reminder of a life I can never get back. A life of loneliness and sadness, made bearable only by a man who promised me things he never intended to deliver. All he intended to deliver was my death. It seems to be a pattern, does it not?  
  
Aya’s voice on the intercom interrupts my self-pitying thoughts and relays that we made it to Cursa. Telling us all to prepare to leave the ship.  
  
I don’t immediately move and, instead, consider my situation. Calderon said I could stay, but after a lifetime of being in a place where I was unwanted, I can’t abide the thought of doing so again. What other options are there?  
  
How long I stand there, I don’t know. Finally, taking a deep breath, I grab my music box and leave my room. I make my way toward Damon’s room. He’s nowhere in sight, nor is anyone else. They’re all off the ship, most likely. For a moment, I find myself torn but, ultimately, I lean down and place the music box in front of his door. My reasons fail to make sense even to me, but it’s what I want to do.  
  
The next part won’t be quite as easy.  
  
A short time later, I trail behind the crew. Cursa is well-named. Damon had called this place a shithole, and it seems quite accurate. It truly does appear to be cursed.  
  
My steps slow and I hold my breath. The others don’t notice. Why would they? It’s not like I’m wanted here. I’m doing them a favor.  
  
The distance between us grows with each passing moment, until I finally duck down an alleyway filled with people who stare at me like I’m a piece of meat. Or a meal ticket. Just like Damon did.  
  
Well, so be it. I take another step, not caring what I face. This place is cursed, as am I. If I belong anywhere, it’s here.  
  
Whether I can survive it or not, I don’t know. But whatever I do, I’ll do it on my own.  



End file.
